


Deck the Paws

by Polomonkey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Animal Transformation, Christmas, Fluff, Humor, Kittens, M/M, Magical Accidents, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: Arthur's ill over Christmas so Merlin brews him a get well potion. Except it actually turns Arthur into a kitten, because of course it does.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supercalvin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercalvin/gifts).



> Supercalvin was the glorious winner of Pornalot and asked for an established relationship modern magic au. I really hope you like it my dear! Thanks for all your lovely fics and your awesome [rec blog](http://averagehobbes.tumblr.com/) too!
> 
> Fills my h/c bingo square 'first transformation'. You might notice this fic is set on Christmas Day so everyone be cool and pretend I posted this two weeks ago.

It would have been alright if Merlin was the sick one. He didn’t exactly like being ill – who did? – but he accepted it happened to everyone at some point or another.

Arthur, on the other hand, viewed getting sick as a personal insult delivered direct from an unfriendly universe. Merlin hadn’t seen so much hand wringing and bemoaning since Morgana had dragged them to that rather overwrought production of Rent. Arthur had spent the morning acting like he was some tragic nineteenth century literary heroine, wasting away romantically on a chaise-longue… instead of an incredibly healthy young man with an extremely mild case of flu.

It didn’t help that it was Christmas, to be fair. Arthur looked forward to Christmas all year round. Merlin hadn’t put much stock in it previously, at least not since he stopped believing in Santa Claus aged eight (thanks to Will’s big mouth). But he had to admit he’d been a little caught up in Arthur’s excitement this year. After all Arthur might have fond memories of Uther’s no-expense-spared Christmases with all the trimmings, but he’d never had a _magical_ Christmas before.

And even Merlin wasn’t immune to the sight of Arthur’s face lighting up like the Blackpool Illuminations when he saw the charm Merlin put on the tree to make the ornaments dance. Or the mini snowflakes configured to fall endlessly outside the bedroom window. Or the decorative wooden letters on the mantelpiece that rearranged themselves into a new Christmassy message every two hours (and eventually had to be retired when they turned a bit rude; Merlin might have accidentally put more of himself in that spell than he’d intended).  

It was worth learning all those finicky little spells just to see Arthur’s sheer unbridled joy as he wandered round their flat, happily watching the toy soldiers on the tree perform the can-can or the angel on the top throwing out tiny handfuls of glitter. In fact by the time the 25th rolled around, Merlin had unexpectedly gotten quite into the Christmas spirit. It was the first one he’d spent with Arthur on their own, first one in a flat they shared, first one they’d officially celebrated as a couple. If that wasn’t a reason to celebrate, then what was?

And then Arthur woke up on Christmas Day claiming to be the sick man of Europe.

Still, there was a chance the day might have been saved even then. If Merlin had just bundled Arthur up in bed with a hot water bottle and all the Lemsip in the bathroom cabinet, the catastrophe still might have been avoided. As it was, Merlin found himself fatally weakened by the sight of Arthur lying on the sofa all pathetic, cheeks flushed and hair rumpled, sniffing and coughing and generally looking miserable.

“Pleaseee. Just try?”

“I really don’t know about this…”

“But it’s Christmas! And I’m so ill…”

Arthur coughed to illustrate his point and Merlin rolled his eyes.

“I can give you normal medicine.”

“I’ll still be bedbound for all of Christmas Day. My favourite day of the year. The day I’ve been looking forward to for months now.”

Arthur’s eyes were big and beseeching and Merlin hated how well they were working on him.

“I haven’t made a flu potion in years,” he said uncertainly and Arthur pressed his advantage.

“But you said it was simple, right? Come on, please just try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll just forget about it.”

Merlin hummed and hawed a few more minutes, until he was subjected to a prolonged sneezing fit which somehow managed to be disgusting and adorable all at once. Arthur was kind of lowkey endearing when he was ill, not that Merlin would ever admit it.

Endearing or not, he was clearly unhappy, and that was what clinched it for Merlin in the end. He might as well give the potion a shot. What was the worst that could happen?

The actual preparations were surprisingly smooth. Gaius had delivered Merlin’s Christmas present last week: a brand new eight inch cauldron and a fully stocked ingredients rack. There was a rather pointed card with it about Merlin improving his brewing techniques; Gaius had fought a long and mostly losing battle throughout Merlin’s childhood tutelage to instil him with more discipline when it came to his magic. And Merlin tried, really he did, but he’d never been the most precise warlock. His spells usually came out fine in the end, so what if his methods were a little slapdash?

But he did proceed with caution as he measured out the ingredients for the flu potion. The only slight fly in the ointment came in the literal form of a fly. Specifically a dead one, smeared across the brewing guide in a way that obscured one word completely.

“Vanilla essence or vanilla extract?” Merlin muttered out loud, attempting to scrape the fly off with his fingernail. Weren’t they basically the same thing? He thought hard for a while, trying to remember the last time he had made this potion.

He was almost one hundred percent sure it was vanilla essence. But maybe he should ring Gaius in Scotland, just to be on the safe side…

“Is it nearly ready?” came Arthur’s quavering voice from the living room.

Good Lord, he was ridiculous. And also painfully cute.

“Just a minute!” Merlin called and added a spoonful of the vanilla essence. It was hardly going to make a huge difference either way.

He heated the potion gently until a golden vapour began to rise. The new cauldron was certainly much more effective than the last one, which had a tendency to belch green smoke at odd intervals. Merlin made a mental note to call Gaius and thank him again as he poured the potion into Arthur’s favourite Daffy Duck mug.

“Here we are, pet,” he said, coming to sit down on the edge of the sofa. Arthur emerged from his nest of blankets and sniffled despondently.

“It smells weird.”

“Yeah and it tastes about as nice but get it down you anyway.”

Arthur wrinkled his nose and Merlin couldn’t resist giving him a quick pat on the head. He’d pinch his cheeks if he thought he could get away with it, they were so rosy and tempting looking.

Maybe later, when Arthur was feeling better. Merlin waited expectantly as Arthur drained the cup dry, he was hoping to score a whole load of brownie points with this one. What other boyfriend could claim to fix flu in less than half an hour? Merlin was top of the pops, as far as he was concerned. He hoped there were some very nice presents under the tree waiting to reward him.

Arthur shivered slightly and put the cup on the side.

He made a funny noise in the back of his throat and then smiled.

“Merlin, I think I feel-”

Then he vanished.

Merlin had never felt such blind panic in his life, except perhaps when he’d turned his Mum’s favourite casserole dish into a micro pig aged seven.

“Arthur!” he said frantically, tugging the blankets away from the sofa. Arthur’s Looney Tunes pyjamas were still there but there was no-one inside them. Terrible thoughts raced through Merlin’s head as he stared at the empty space – he’d disappeared his own boyfriend, he had no idea where to, how could he possibly get him back?

Then there was movement in the pyjama bottoms. A tiny lump, wiggling under the fabric. Merlin was quick to reach inside, perhaps he’d only shrunk Arthur down, the spell to fix that was quite easy…

“Ow!”

Merlin retracted his hand to stare at the little scratch on his finger. It hadn’t drawn blood but it was definitely sharper than Arthur’s fingernails should have been. Unless mini-Arthur was so angry at Merlin that he’d bitten him?

Warily, he watched as the small lump moved along one pyjama leg, waiting for Arthur to crawl out and hopefully be cajoled into forgiving Merlin while he looked up the reversal spell.

But it wasn’t Arthur’s little head that appeared at all. Merlin watched in both disbelief and horror as what looked like a tiny ball of fluff emerged from the leg. It yowled once and Merlin’s brain caught up with his eyes.

He’d turned Arthur into a kitten.

An eensy weensy little grey kitten with a white throat and paws and a pair of wide blue eyes. Eyes that were unmistakeably glaring at Merlin.

“Mrow!” said Kitten!Arthur and Merlin didn’t have to speak cat to know it was an expression of extreme displeasure.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Merlin said, sinking down to the cat’s eye level. “Arthur, can you understand me? Tap your paw once for yes.”

Clumsily, Kitten!Arthur raised one paw and then tapped it down on the couch.

So it was Arthur’s brain inside a kitten’s body. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief at that, he didn’t want his boyfriend getting too cosy in the mind of a cat.

“I’m so sorry. I must have got one of the ingredients wrong. I can fix this, I swear, I just need to call Gaius.”

Kitten!Arthur gave a loud meow and Merlin cringed.

“Don’t be mad! We’ll be laughing about this later, you’ll see.”

Kitten!Arthur hissed and Merlin backed off rather hastily, reaching for his laptop.

Gaius preferred Skype to phone calls and thank God he answered straight away because Merlin was barely holding back his panic.

“Merlin, m’boy! Merry Christmas!”

“Yes, merry Christmas Gaius, listen-”

“And a happy new year! Or is that too soon? But it’s never too soon to bestow good wishes surely? A happy new year to one and all!”

Gauis, Merlin quickly realised, was drunk and he groaned inwardly. Then again, drunk Gaius was infinitely less judgemental than sober Gaius, which could only be a plus…

Sure enough, Gaius only laughed jovially when Merlin told him what happened.

“Can I see?” he said and Merlin turned, giving Kitten!Arthur a pleading look. After several fraught moments, Arthur deigned to walk into view of the webcam.

Gaius then exploded with laughter, which did not help matters at all. Arthur stalked off to the edge of the sofa to sulk while Merlin tried to calm Gaius enough to be of some help.

“Fear not, m’boy, it’s a simple enough potion. I’ll email it over now. That is if *hic* you don’t prefer Arthur this way. He’d certainly be easier to look after!”

Kitten!Arthur extended his claws in a rather threatening manner and Merlin quickly assured Gaius that Arthur in human form was his decided preference.

“Alright, I’ve sent that now. Best of luck! I must go Merlin, Geoffrey’s got Great Balls of Fire in Charades and he’s bringing the house down!”

With that disturbing image, Gaius took his leave. Merlin quickly opened up his email and scanned the potion.

He had all the ingredients but the brewing instructions warned that it was a sensitive one. Sensitive potions had never exactly been Merlin’s forte, they called for the kind of precision that Merlin lacked in spades.

He put a brave face on when he turned back to Arthur.

“Easy peasy! We’ll have you back to normal in no time.”

Kitten!Arthur turned his head away. He was almost as good as human Arthur at being stand offish.

“Love, I really am sorry,” Merlin said, going to sit next to him on the sofa. “I was only trying to help. Please forgive me?”

Arthur gave him a calculated glance and something in Merlin’s expression must have gotten through because he tapped his paw once.

“Thank you,” Merlin said, relieved. “I’ll get cracking on the antidote right away. Just, er… could I…”

He hovered his hand, hoping Arthur wouldn’t be too offended. But he was just so fluffy! And small and big-eyed and pointy-eared. He even had that little triangle tail that young kittens had and his legs were so short and plump and…

Merlin had made a sort of squeeing sound before he could stop himself. Kitten!Arthur looked both irritated and resigned, in that way that only cats could. Slowly he walked over to Merlin, still a little unsteady on his new legs, and then slumped down under Merlin’s hand with a long suffering expression on his face.

Merlin knew he wasn’t going to get better permission than that. He brought his hand down to stroke Arthur from head to tail, revelling in how soft his fur felt. He stopped after that, not wanting to push his luck if Arthur was uncomfortable, but to his surprise Arthur butted up against his hand. Merlin needed no further encouragement, petting Arthur’s little head and then scritching behind his ears. Arthur’s eyes half-closed in pleasure and he let out a sound that could only be a purr. Then he glared up at Merlin, as if daring him to comment on it.

Merlin bit his lip to stop himself from cooing and instead picked Arthur up gently. They cuddled like that on the sofa for five minutes, Arthur purring like a steam train, until suddenly he seemed to remember himself and walked over to nudge the laptop screen with his head.

“Yes, you’re right,” Merlin said guiltily and got up. “I’ll be making it in the kitchen, do you want to come or stay here?”

Arthur gave Merlin a rather withering look for expecting an answer to that.

“Oh sorry! Erm, do you want to come in the kitchen?”

One paw tap.

“Shall I carry you?”

Two paw taps.

“That means no?”

One paw tap.

“So you want to walk?”

Arthur bristled in irritation and leapt down off the couch suddenly. He began to walk towards the kitchen door and Merlin followed him, hopelessly charmed by Arthur’s little kitten feet padding across the floor.

Perhaps a little too charmed, because he got distracted by Arthur playing with the windchime above the breadbin and stirred the potion five times instead of six. There was a loud bang and Arthur jumped about a foot in the air, Merlin leaping forward to catch him before he fell off the counter. He stroked Arthur back to calm and murmured his profuse apologies, opening the window to let the red vapour sizzling from the cauldron out.

Arthur elected to stay on the floor after that. Seemingly in revenge for the whole fiasco, he dragged one of Merlin’s scarves out of the laundry pile and started clawing at it. Merlin couldn’t really object and got to work on making a fresh potion, ignoring Arthur’s contented meows as he shredded Merlin’s clothing.

The second potion ended in disaster too, with Merlin knocking an extra half inch of liquorice root in by accident which somehow triggered a minute of high pitched shrieks from the cauldron. And another one of Merlin’s t-shirts being clawed to death by Arthur.

Merlin called a break after that and made a sandwich. He offered Arthur various things from the fridge until Arthur settled on a can of tuna. They ate with Arthur on Merlin’s lap and Merlin absently stroking his head as he reread the potion instructions.

Then he caught Arthur batting at his hoodie drawstrings and became distracted. A half hour game ensued with Merlin dragging various bits of string and shiny objects around and Arthur pouncing on them. It got rather raucous and it was only when their rude neighbour Val banged on the wall that they came to their senses, with Arthur shuffling awkwardly off to the laundry pile and Merlin shamefacedly returning to the cauldron.

Attempt three was the best of all of them, until Merlin turned it off simmer a minute early. The noise this time was like a small firework exploding and Merlin could barely blame Arthur for ducking underneath the rag pile he’d made from Merlin’s clothing. Merlin felt a lot like hiding away from the world as well.

He was just readying the ingredients for another go when there was a knock at the door.

Merlin answered and then immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Arthur in?” Val said, peering nosily into the flat.

Val seemed to want to be Arthur’s friend for some reason, despite all of Arthur’s attempts to rebuff him. Merlin suspected it was a football thing, or some other laddish connection. Val was always asking Arthur to come down and watch the game at the pub, or go for a kick-about in the park. He was polite as could be then but if Merlin ran into Val when Arthur wasn’t around, he could expect a barrage of snide comments and insinuations about how Arthur could do better.

“No,” Merlin said crisply and Val’s whole demeanour changed.

“Left you, has he?” he said, fixing Merlin with a sneer.

“No. He’s just… gone out.”

“Gone out? On Christmas Day?” Val said, disbelieving.

“It’s none of your business where-”

“Came round to tell you to knock it off with the magic tricks,” Val interrupted, a scornful emphasis on the word tricks. “We’re trying to watch the telly next door, we don’t need the freak-show soundtrack.”

Merlin took a deep breath. He hated having to appease idiots like Val but he didn’t want a complaint being made to the Magical Commission about him.

“I’m sorry if it got a bit loud,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “I was trying to work a difficult spell.”

“Not very good at it, are ya?” Val said, a nasty grin on his face. “Judging by the mess this place is in.”

Merlin’s eyes followed the sweep of Val’s hand, to the half-shredded scarf, the overturned couch cushions, the blankets strewn on the floor. He flushed involuntarily.

“I’ll try to keep it down,” he said. “Goodbye.”

But Val didn’t leave. He just stood there, blocking the door, lip curled.

“Can you leave please?” Merlin said. He was itching to blast Val into the street but the way his magic was going today, he’d probably bring the block of flats down. So instead he tried to look calm and in control, even though he felt the exact opposite.

Val just puffed his chest up, that same nasty grin on his face.

“Not surprised Arthur got sick of you,” he said at last. “What’s a normal decent bloke like him want with a witchboy like you?”

Merlin inhaled sharply; he’d known Val was a jerk but he was taken aback by the venom in his voice. For one horrible moment he felt almost close to tears, because this was possibly the one day in history that Val could actually strike a nerve. He’d turned Arthur into a cat. He couldn’t even change him back. He was the worst boyfriend ever.

“Please leave,” he said and was horrified to hear his voice crack. Val clearly picked up on it too because he sniggered.

“Aww, did I offend the little freak of natu– argh!”

A grey and white blur suddenly streaked through the air. It happened so fast it took Merlin a moment to realise that Arthur had launched himself at Val’s leg, claws first.

“What the hell?” Val shouted as Arthur made short and impressive work of shredding the bottom of Val’s chinos with a vigour more akin to a leopard than a kitten.

He tried to kick him off but Arthur hung on tenaciously, little teeth bared. He finally darted back just as Val reached down to pull him away, clambering up Merlin’s body and onto his shoulder where he sat, licking his paws with an innocent air.

Val looked greatly embarrassed to see that his attacker was a five inch tall kitten, and tried to cover it up with bluster.

“That thing’s a menace! It could attack a kiddie!”

“He’s very good with children, actually,” Merlin said, trying his best not to burst out laughing. “I believe you were leaving?”

“Now, look here-” Val said, taking a threatening step forward. Before he could take another, Arthur arched his back and hissed. Val ducked away immediately, face paling.

“I… yeah, I was leaving. Of my own accord. Cos I want to. Yeah.”

Merlin nodded, barely bothering to conceal his smirk. Val looked as though he wanted to say something more but it only took one look at Arthur before he thought better of it.

“Keep the noise down,” he muttered as he retreated to the corridor and Merlin gave him a beatific smile.

“And a very merry Christmas to you too, Val.”

Then he slammed the door in Val’s face.

Arthur nuzzled into the side of his neck, purring loudly. Merlin plucked him up in the air and planted a big kiss on his forehead.

“Have I told you lately that I love you? In human form, in cat form, whatever.”

He made a cosy little blanket nest in the kitchen, gave Arthur some socks to shred (it didn’t seem to be revenge anymore, more Arthur just enjoying it), and left him to nap. As if by magic (or magical chemistry, as Gaius would always say sternly), this time the potion went off without a hitch.

Merlin decanted it safely into a bottle and then found a dropper in Gaius’ kit box. He carried the still sleeping Arthur into the living room and gently woke him up.

“Potion’s ready,” he said softly and Arthur yawned widely. Merlin felt a sudden little pang –as much as he was looking forward to getting his boyfriend back, he made an undeniably cute kitten.

“You better sit by me rather than on me, since you’re gonna turn back,” Merlin said but Arthur was having none of it, clinging to Merlin’s leg. So Merlin relented and they had one last purr-filled cuddle before Merlin filled a dropper with the potion and held it over Arthur’s mouth.

“Goodbye kitty,” he said and then suddenly he had a lapful of warm, naked Arthur.

“You absolute idiot!” Arthur said and then kissed Merlin soundly.

“Are you alright? Do you feel normal?” Merlin said anxiously.

“Well I’ve still got the flu but I don’t think I’ll be complaining about that ever again,” Arthur said, holding out his hands and staring at them in rapt appreciation.

“How did it feel to be a cat?” Merlin said curiously.

“Everything was big and loud and all the colours were weird,” Arthur said, which was about all Merlin could get out of him about the whole experience.

“You could try it yourself sometime,” Arthur said later, when they were in a lazy huddle on the couch in front of Die Hard, presents opened and Christmas dinner consumed.

“Maybe,” Merlin said, tempted. “But I’d brew the antidote beforehand and I’d have to trust you to give it to me.”

“Oh I would,” Arthur said airily. “But not before stroking the hell out of you, because payback is a bitch.”

“Oi!” Merlin protested. “You liked the stroking! You were purring.”

“Of course I was not purring,” Arthur said with great dignity. “I would never purr, you must be mistaken.”

Merlin decided he could allow that little fiction, since he did sort of owe Arthur one. He was just glad to have him back.

And if Arthur spent most of the film absent-mindedly batting at the drawstrings on Merlin’s hoodie, well that was more than alright too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! [This](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/ee/ac/e7/eeace73d931848802b2506273f877aeb.jpg) is how I imagine Kitten!Arthur btw :)


End file.
